


Ghosts from the past

by ALannister



Category: Mahabharata - Vyasa
Genre: Gen, Guilt, Tragedy, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 03:57:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,556
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5032819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ALannister/pseuds/ALannister
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bhim returns back to Hastinapura with his brothers after winning the Kurukshetra war.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ghosts from the past

**Author's Note:**

  * For [geethr75](https://archiveofourown.org/users/geethr75/gifts), [goldenfairy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenfairy/gifts), [arpita](https://archiveofourown.org/users/arpita/gifts).



Prince Bhimsen walked behind his Bhratashri & Panchali, head held high surveying the crowds gathered on the streets. He studied the people as they stood in their balconies & on their terraces showering flowers on the Pandavas. The entire city had been decorated in gay colours. Flowers & beads of every colour beautified every house, every shop. Colourful rangolis had been drawn on the roads & outside houses. The sun which shone brightly today was making all the arrangements seem brighter. And yet everywhere he looked he saw women in white. Little girls, middle aged women, women older than his mothers. Their hands showered flowers on the procession but their eyes held no joy. He felt their eyes pierce him as he passed beneath their houses. The white of their clothes seemed to render everything colourless. How many of these women had lost a husband, a son, a grandson because of him?

 

A restlessness seized him then & he was glad as he saw the main gates of the palace looming in front of them. He was transported to another time, when a widow with her five sons had raced down this same path in a chariot accompanied by a few Brahmins. He had been so curious to see the palace & meet all the people. He remembered Bhratashri being enveloped in a hug by Vidur Kaka. He could still see a young Arjun walking up tentatively to Pitamah & winning over his heart with a single smile. Nakul & Sahadev had stuck to Matashri. He had wandered about till he had felt a pair of eyes boring into him. He had turned & seen a boy staring at him with part anger & part haughtiness. He had stared right back. Another boy had stood next to him whispering something till the older one snickered & walked away.

 

Bhim was pulled back to the present as his chariot lurched to a stop. Where were all those people now? Where was Pitamah? Where were his hundreds of cousins? He remembered Krishna telling Arjun that the soul never dies. It just passes from one body to another. If yes, was Pitamah here somewhere among the newly born? Would he meet that smug Suyodhan in a little infant sometime?

 

While he had killed every single cousin of his, their parents still remained. He felt the old hatred begin to burn in his chest as he saw his uncle Dhritarashtra. The one man who could have stopped it all. The one man who had the power to choose. The one man who had made the wrong choice & damned the entire clan forever. How pale he looked today. The fake smile was still intact on his face, the same one with which he had greeted them years ago. He had hated him then, he hated him now. But he came to a standstill as he saw Mata Gandhari standing next to him. Her face held no smile. But she didn’t appear angry either. She had an air of tiredness around her. What would she say? No tears ran down her cheeks but the drape which she had pulled round her shoulders was stained with tears. She had been crying but had wiped off her tears. He felt a heavy weight settle in his chest. How would he face her? Although she had been Suyodhan’s mother he remembered her to be an impartial woman. He remembered her continuous attempts to unite the cousins. Why couldn’t she have succeeded? As they started approaching his old aunt & uncle, for the first time in his life, Bhim had an irrational urge to hide behind his elder brother or Krishna. They were the ones with all the flowery words. What would he tell her if she questioned him about killing his brothers? He could tell her the truth, he could remind her of her son’s deeds, he could remind her of Draupadi’s insults, he could remind her of his vows. And with each word that he would utter he could earn more hate from Mata Gandhari. Why didn’t they teach you how to console a grieving mother whose son you had killed? Dronacharya, Kripacharya, Balaram…none of them had taught him that. He knew how to kill. But he had no idea how to confront this mother who had lost not one, not two but a hundred sons. All to the same man. Him.

 

He stood there lost in thought. A silence enveloped him as he realized that the entire party had moved on. He saw Mata Gandhaari welcoming Bhratashri & Panchali. Would anyone miss him? He hoped not! He quietly slipped away & went to the one place which he had felt like his true home.

 

The practice arena was as dead as the rest of the palace. The corridors he passed had been empty where once men had stood jesting, talking, discussing about the latest weapons & matches. This section of the palace held a deserted look. Even the lamps in this section hadn’t been lit. A few lights flickered but most were out of oil. The gloom of the arena suited his mood perfectly. Taking off his Uttariya he settled on the cool sand. Picking up a handful he tried to clench it in his fist. The more he tightened his hold around the grains of sand the more quickly they seemed to slip away till finally his fist was all empty.

 

Ghosts from his past filtered into the dimly lit area. How many times had he pounded his dumb cousins to a pulp in this place? He remembered the countless times he had sent each one of them running to their Bhratashri or Pitashri. He would then wait for a furious Suyodhan to come bellowing down to the arena. And then he would get the fight he desired for. He recalled the countless times he had used the younger Kauravas to provoke the eldest. They had battled each other with all the hatred they kept hidden most of the time. Here they could be honest. They loved pounding the other to a pulp. They loved drawing blood. He loved it more when he could defeat Suyodhan in front of the other Kauravas. Each little fight had been to establish who was the best. They had kept scores. This arena was the only place where Suyodhan had been honest. He never cheated on the numbers. Till the end it had been a close match. When he had left for Indraprastha Suyodhan had been winning after beating him in three consecutive matches. He had promised to return one day & change the scores. He had kept his promise. But there was no Suyodhan today.

 

Did he miss him? No! Never! If given a chance he would smash his thighs a thousand times. But he missed the boy he had been. The one who had stood up for his little brothers. The stubborn, obstinate, bone headed fool. The only one who had given him a tough competition. A worthy competitor. He remembered the Rangbhoomi. Why hadn’t they allowed them to fight to death on that day? Why hadn’t they allowed them to fight on the day of the Dyut Sabha? It had always been between them. Always. So many lives could have been saved had they been given the freedom to settle their differences with maces in their hands. Just him & Suyodhan. Man to Man!

 

But they had chained them up with their words. Krishna, Bhratashri, Vidura Kaka, Pitamah, Mata Kunti, Mata Gandhari, each one shuddering at the prospect of cousins fighting, each one castigating them to control their animal instincts. Did they repent their advice today? So many lives could have been saved had Suyodhan & Bhim been allowed to settle the scores. If he had died the Pandavas would still have Arjun but if he did manage to kill Suyodhan the Kauravas would have been nothing but a body without a head.

 

A few men entered in the practice arena. Bhim quickly collected himself & got up. A group of young men walked up to him & saluted him.

 

Oh yes, he had forgotten. He was a Crown Prince now.

 

They mumbled something about if the mighty Bhimsen cared for a mace fight. He looked at these boys & shook his head.

 

He had fought with the best. Fighting with them would give him no pleasure. This arena could no longer offer him any solace. The ghosts of his past had taken up residence here. He needed to move away.

 

Normally he would have gone to the forests. That was where he went to when he was disturbed. To Hidimbi. But how could he face her now? He remembered callously calling out to Ghatotkach, asking him to fall on the enemy lines even as he was bellowing in pain from the Shakti which Karna had used on him. What sort of a father had he been? It was his mother who had raised him. But it was his father who had gotten him killed. How could he ever face that mother again? Another mother whose son’s blood was on his hands.

 

He wondered if Suyodhan was cackling at his misery. In the end he had won even in his death. While Bhim felt as if he had lost everything inspite of all his wins. The yoke of duty had never felt so heavy round his neck as it did in that moment.

 


End file.
